


In your philosophy

by Petra



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: Batman Begins - Freeform, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-18
Updated: 2006-07-18
Packaged: 2017-10-11 18:54:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/115803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petra/pseuds/Petra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tires have no resale value.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In your philosophy

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://ficbyzee.livejournal.com/profile)[**ficbyzee**](http://ficbyzee.livejournal.com/) made me think of it and [](http://glossing.livejournal.com/profile)[**glossing**](http://glossing.livejournal.com/) cheered me on.

The tires have no resale value.

It's possible the boy wanted them for some kind of trophy.

When he wakes up, Batman will ask.

It takes ten minutes after the trip back to the cave before he comes to. His ankles are tied to the chair, as are his wrists.

When he opens his eyes, they are painfully blue.

Batman puts a blanket around his shoulders. "Do you have any concept how stupid that was?"

The boy shivers. "Fuck you, man."

Batman shakes his head. "You could be dead right now."

"But I'm not." He lifts his chin. "What else have you got?"

"Questions," Batman says. He doesn't admit to the flicker of hope.

*

Jason fails completely at his attempts to look like he belongs at Bruce's parties. That does not stop the girls who come fluttering around from kissing his cheeks and exclaiming over how cute he is.

Nor does the time Bruce catches him in the gardens with Mackenzie Bright, her priceless gown rumpled around her waist and Jason's head between her thighs.

He doesn't have the grace to be embarrassed. "Sorry, boss," he says, wiping his face on the back of his hand while Mackenzie, red-faced and with tears that threaten to wreck her eyeshadow, flees.

"Not in public."

"I was -- you know -- contributing. To the image, like Al says."

Bruce raises an eyebrow at him.

"And that scar on my thigh is still really ugly," Jason says, "so -- well --"

"Hm."

It makes him relax and thump Bruce's shoulder, which is a relief in itself. It is good to be understood. "So we're cool?"

"Yes. But in the future, make an attempt not to seduce anyone I have."

Jason gets five paces behind him before he laughs and catches up. "Ten-four."

*

The day after the party, Bruce hands Jason a baseball glove.

"So --" Jason throws the ball hard. "Why are we doing this?"

Bruce tosses it back just as fast. "Hand-eye coordination."

"Right." Smack into the glove. "Because this is going to help."

Bruce raises an eyebrow at him. "Jason --"

"You can pretend we're normal all you want, but it doesn't make this normal."

"Call it a need for Vitamin D, then."

Jason grins. "So we're going out tonight?"

"Absolutely."

*

Jason's uniform is a softer black than Batman's, just as form-fitting, but modeled more on ninja traditions than on the concept of an animal. The cape he has is smaller, though it still provides significant advantage when the current goes through the ribs and makes it into a glider instead of couture.

He relies too much on his knives and his kicks, but he's getting better about having a variety of techniques. Slowly.

The tabloids haven't decided what to call him, yet. He signs his handiwork with a stylized V, sometimes overlaid on the bat, sometimes beside it.

When they deliver the green-haired wreck of a man to the police, Jason signs his unconscious face with a deep blue Sharpie, stark against his white skin. His handwriting is shaky because his right arm is broken, but the letters are legible.

"Keep this one under wraps. Love, Batman & Nightwing."


End file.
